


3:27 AM

by ArtsyAfrodite



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-05
Updated: 2014-01-05
Packaged: 2018-01-07 14:38:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1121027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArtsyAfrodite/pseuds/ArtsyAfrodite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's a fucking chain reaction.</p>
            </blockquote>





	3:27 AM

Pushed up. Placed feet stuck on the cold floor. Everything feels like a thousand needles. Dulled senses don’t mix well with sensation.  _Breathe in. Breathe out._ Eyes never adjust naturally in the dark, so what is he looking for? The clock. Right.

3:27am.

Here it is again.

Ian feels a familiar burning in his brain that comes with the time. The same time. Every time. He doesn’t peg himself as an insomniac, but his sleeping patterns sure do. He knows it’s something more so he acknowledges, grabs his phone.

The time he’s made for coffee. He makes about two cups worth, knowing caffeine at three in the morning is the stepchild to vodka before noon. It shouldn’t be adopted. But Ian pours a cup, black as night. He drinks it straight. Cream and sugar feel tedious and he just wants easy right now. He knows he’s staying up.

He sits at the kitchen table and waits.

###

It’s like clockwork. Clawed sheets. Torn dreams fall from the face. Everything feels like a thousand degrees. Unwilling skin doesn’t mix well with the contact. His eyes were made to adjust to the dark, so what is he waiting for? He looks at the clock.

3:28am.

It’s a fucking chain reaction.

Mickey feels a familiar tugging in his chest that comes with the time. The same time. Every time. He knows he’s an insomniac, voluntarily so. But it’s something more, so he kicks and pushes up. He walks the floor around his bed.

The time he’s made for Kettle One. Jack Daniels long retired. He pours the drink in a plastic tumblr, knowing vodka at three in the morning makes him honest. It was a dangerous thing. He downs the first cup. The familiar burn is the kickoff. The tumblr begins to feel tedious so Mickey brings the bottle to his lips. He needs the courage.

He grabs his phone and dials.

###

Vibrations on the table. A lit screen. The ringing phone doesn’t startle him. That was a reaction meant for first times. But the name he expects, so what is he hesitating for? He pauses for a second. The clock. Again.

3:35am.

Right on the dot.

Ian hears the familiar breathing on the other end that comes with the time. The same time. Every time. He doesn’t have to say hello. The conversation always starts itself. From the second time on it begins the same. So he reciprocates a breath into the receiver.

"Are we at this again?" Ian asks.

"You’ve come to expect it." Mickey answers.

"You expect to initiate it."

"You say that like it’s a bad thing."

"No. It’s just like clockwork."

"Or a working of the clock."

"Can’t sleep."

"Won’t sleep."

"What are your intentions?" Ian deadpans.

Mickey pauses.

"Tonight?" he responds.

"It’s morning," Ian offers.

Mickey knows the time. For the life of him he doesn’t know why. He doesn’t remember exactly when the tugging started. He does remember the feeling of him being pulled out of sleep, out of bed. He didn’t know Ian had come back. It was automatic. 3:28am.

He dialed the red head seven minutes later. 3:35am. He didn’t expect him to pick up. Mickey figured he’d just leave a cryptic message. But Ian picked up. He didn’t sound ecstatic. His internal alarm? 3:27am.

Two months later. It was still going on. And the conversation always ended the same.

Maybe it would end differently this time.

"It won’t end differently this time," Ian says.

"Who says I want it to?" Mickey asks.

"Your repeated attempts."

"You repeatedly pick up."

"Where’s your wife?"

"I don’t touch her."

"Didn’t ask that."

"Workin’ overnight."

"Don’t wanna use your family discount?"

"Fuck you."

"Mmmmm, I bet you’d like that."

Mickey pauses. Ian was venomous now. He guesses he’s to blame.

"No more than you," Mickey says.

"I’m over it," Ian replies.

"Are you?"

Ian pauses.

"What do you want Mick?"

"Answer my question."

"Why? You’ve never answered mine."

"Please."

"Payback’s a bitch."

"A bitch pays back."

"You calling me a bitch?"

"You’re acting like one."

Ian pauses. Mickey hears movement in the background. A mug hits the table. Chair legs scrape the floor. He’s standing now.

"What the fuck do to want?" Ian asks. He’s angry now.

"Can I see you?" Mickey’s asks back.

"You see me."

"In passing. Here and there."

"You don’t deserve that much."

"I don’t deserve a lot of things."

"I’m so done with this conversation."

"Then why are you still talking to me?"

"Because I wanna know what it is you want."

"Isn’t it obvious?"

"Nothing’s obvious with you."

"I want you."

"You say this every time."

"It’s true."

"It’s a given. So what is it, really?”

Mickey pauses. He always does at this point, resulting in Ian threatening to change his number before hanging up on him. He never does. So it’s the same number dialed the same time the next day. And the cycle repeats. It always ends the same.

"Fuck this. I’m hanging up," Ian huffs.

"Gallagher," Mickey pleads.

"My name is Ian! I swear to God I’m hanging up."

"Just wait a minute."

"I’m sick of waiting Mick."

Mickey pauses. He needs it to end differently this time.

"I love you Ian."

So it does. And Ian doesn’t hang up.

**Author's Note:**

> Random one shot I wrote at 3:27am. Insomnia is a bitch. I hope you enjoyed the ramblings of my mind. :)


End file.
